


Ronnie Can't Swag

by ValentineRevenge



Category: Black Veil Brides, Falling in Reverse, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Ashley is a badass, Epic Fail, Explicit Language, Gen, Humor, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, Parody, Poor Andy, Pop Culture, Racism, Recreational Drug Use, Ronnie is a twit, Swag, This Is Why We Can't Have Nice Things, What Have I Done, What Was I Thinking?, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2014-10-23
Packaged: 2017-12-05 06:26:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 17
Words: 11,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/719901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ValentineRevenge/pseuds/ValentineRevenge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little oneshots following Ronnie Radke's many failures in swag.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Ronnie Radke was always looking for ways to make himself seem more interesting, and cooler to today's society. After all, he was hoping that him, and his current band, Escape the Fate, would avoid the fate of becoming just another hopeless, failure of a washed up band from Las Vegas. So when he heard the newest trend among today's teenagers was "Swag" he obviously wanted to know what it was.  
  
So after quite a while of him doing (discreet) research on the internet, and going out to watch what happened among today's teens, he figured out what it was. Ronnie was fairly smart, even in his druged up haze, so he was not faced with the need to walk up to someone and ask them just what the fuck swag was. One of the biggest ways that he had observed to have 'swag' was to sag your pants.   
  
One day, the perfect opportunity came for him to express his newfound swag. So, he took it. He was walking down the street to the next show he had to perform, with Max Green, when his low slung pants that he had deemed swag, fell down around his ankles, nearly taking his undies down with them. Several nearby teens started to laugh, snapping pictures on their phones. The next day, it was posted all over the internet with the caption "Ronnie Ain't Got S(w)ag"   
  
The day that it was posted rampantly across the internet, Black Veil Brides singer, Andy Biersack/Six was looking into other bands to invite on a tour with his own band. After all, it did get boring after quite a while being on tour with just the same 4 or 5 other bandmates, and the tour manager and the driver, and the technicians changed at every venue.   
  
After a while, Andy had sent out several emails and texts to people in other bands that he knew, inviting them to come on tour with him, because he didn't feel like having to suffer through the nightmare of Purdy's all night sex parties and Jinxx's stink feet and Chuppy's fat-ass-ness (is that even a word?) of eating everything in the kitchen by himself. Now, he was bored, and decided to go onto facebook. And what should he find there, but a picture of Ronnie Radke with his pants floating somewhere around his ankles? The look on Ronnie's face was absolutely priceless. Andy pulled out his phone, and scanned through his contacts. There it was. The number of one Ronnie Radke himself. Dialing it, it rang a few times, before the (grouchy) owner picked up.   
  
“What tha fuck ya want?”   
  
“Hey Ronnie, it's Andy. What's with the picture all over the internet?”  
  
“It's ma fuckin' swag that went wrong. If ya got a problem with it, fill out a motherfuckin' complaint form and go shove it up your ass!”  
  
“I don't have a problem on it, I was just wondering if you felt like tagging along on the latest tour?”  
  
“With fuckin' Stinkybones Motherfucker and Chuppy the fatass and Pervy-Boy?”  
  
“Uh, Ronnie, his name is Purdy, not Pervy.”  
  
“He's a pervy motherfucker any way ya look at it.”  
  
“True.”


	2. Chapter 2

Things were going the way they were supposed to on set of Falling In Reverse's newest video. Everyone was having a fairly good time and life was good. But Ronnie still insisted on his 'swag' of pants being too low. Somehow, he had made a compromise with the director which meant he could still swag but only if he wore skinnies. In the director's words, if he wore baggy pants like most of the 'swaggers' did then Falling In Reverse wouldn't look like the rock band they were supposed to be, it would look like a crappy rap band full of skinny white boys who can't rap. **I'm not being racist here just writing it like that for humors sake**  
  
but what the director wasn't counting on was Ronnie strolling in there with his pants so low that if he so much as twitched the wrong way they'd go sliding right off! The director heaved a sigh, grateful at least that Radke had the decency to make sure that his junk was covered even if just barely. However, the director was _not_ pleased to see that the greater part of the singer's arse was bare to the world. Taking him aside, the director said, "Ronnie, I know we agreed on this swag thing of yours, but could you at least pull up your pants in the back?"   
  
"Why the hell should I?" Ronnie said, uncaring.  
  
"because!" the director spluttered. Wasn't it obvious to the singer why? Probably not since all he got in repsonse was a raised eyebrow. In an attempt to clarify, he said, "Because half your ass is out of your pants on display to the whole world!"  
  
"And remind me why I should give a fuck?"  
  
The director gave a sigh, realizing that it was useless to argue with the singer, who wouldn't learn until shit happened, so he said, "whatever, just mark my words, your pants are going to fall off when we're filming. Maybe I'll leave that shot in there for all your fangirls."   
  
"Yeah right." Ronnie said walking away. Like that would ever happen. It did. During the group therapy scene where Ronnie was supposed to dance around singing about who he was and that he was an addict and raised on Black Sabbath and whatnot, the unthinkable (at least for Ronnie) happened. Just like the director predicted, Ronnie's overly low pants fell to somewhere around his ankles, leaving him just in his tighty whiteys. The only thing his director could say through the peals of laughter that had him nearly doubled over was "I told ya so!"  
  
3 weeks later  
  
The tour manager for Black Veil Brides was currently reviewing the video, a somewhat sheepish Andy in front of him. “Andy, remind me again why we want this guy to tour with us?”  
  
“Um... Because he's a good singer?” Andy offered. At the moment, he looked like he was going to run out the door... Or hide behind the nearest potted plant. “But do you really want to be on stage with a guy whose pants fall off on video?”  
  
“Hey, that might actually be useful!”  
  
“How?”  
  
“Fangirls.” Andy said, looking mightily proud of himself.  
  
“Fangirls?”  
  
“Duh!”  
  
The glare that the tour manager sent Andy's way was enough to really send him running for the cover of the nearest potted plant.


	3. Chapter 3

"Ronnie, this can't end well." Andy said, regarding the other man over the top of his coffee cup. "Relax, there's nothing to it." He replied, putting his foot up on the table. Andy wanted to slap the shit out of him and scream, "I JUST FUCKING CLEANED THAT!" It was even worse because he was wearing shoes.   
  
But the younger of the two restrained himself by an inch. "The people who say it are ones themselves, usually."   
  
"So?" Ronnie asked, uncaring.   
  
"If I walked up to Ashley and called him emo, he wouldn't give a flying fuck, cause I'm the same as him! But if some jock walked up and said the same thing, we'd be talking to him through a jail phone for the next 25 years at least!"   
  
"And how does Ashley turning into a murderer relate to the word 'Nigga'?"  
  
"It's almost the same!" Andy yelled, throwing his hands up in frustration.   
  
"It's not! Don't you see all these random ass people, white dudes too, saggin they pants and callin each other 'nigga'?" Ronnie asked.   
  
The younger man smacked his head on the table several times. There was obviously no winning this argument. "You ok?" Ronnie asked after several minutes, looking at the singer trying to beat himself into unconsciousness using his own table.   
  
"This." **WHACK** "isn't." **WHACK** "going." **WHACK** "To." **WHACK** "End." **WHACK** "Well." **WHACK**  
  
"Of course it isn't, since yer trying to whack yerself to death! What would your fans say if the headlines read "Andy Six commits suicide by whacking head on table?"  
  
Andy managed to shoot Ronnie a withering glare while continuing to whack himself into the afterlife.   
  
At the end of the day, Ronnie still went out yelling the word 'Nigga' in every sentence, and sagging his pants as low as pants could sag. Andy was left with a killer headache. Ashley came over with sympathy, aspirin, and an icepack.  
  
2 weeks later, Andy got a call. Ashley, who was sitting next to him, watched his expression quickly change from a smile to worry and fear. When he hung up, his hands were shaking terribly. "What's wrong?"  
  
"It's Ronnie. He's in the hospital. They said it's pretty bad." Andy whispered, eyes not fully focusing. He didn't want to accept the reality that he might lose one of his best friends.  
  
"I'm driving." Ashley said.   
  
They turned a 30 minute drive into a 10 minute drive, Andy clinging onto the sides of his seat for dear life. Screeching to a stop, they toppled out, running into the hospital. After nearly cursing out the nurse for taking too long, they made it to Ronnie's room. Upon seeing the sight inside, Andy stopped in his tracks, making Ashley slam into his back. A muffled "The fuck?" was heard.   
  
A moment later, Ashley peeked below Andy's arm. "Holy shit."  
  
Ronnie was laying in the bed, wrapped up nearly entirely in casts and bandages, looking very much like a mummy. Only his eyes and mouth were visible. "Hi guys." He wheezed.   
  
"Ronnie?" Andy asked, blue eyes wide, taking an uncertain step forward. Ashley followed, clutching Andy's arm tightly. "What happened?"  
  
 **FLASHBACK**  
  
Ronnie was walking down the street, when he saw Gerard Way on the other side. "Yo! Nigga!" he shouted, waving. Gerard, already used to Ronnie's swag, merely smiled and waved back. However, several gangsters had heard him. In a moment, they had him completely circled. The leader stepped forward and snearled, "Who tha fuck ya think ya be callin' a nigga, cuz I know it sure as fuck ain't me!"  
  
"I wasn't-"  
  
"Boy's, I think it's time we teach whitey here a lesson!"  
  
Knuckles cracked ominously.  
  
"Oh shit."  
  
 **END FLASHBACK**  
  
"I told you this wouldn't end well." Andy said, shaking his head, while Ashley could only laugh.


	4. Chapter 4

Ronnie rolled his arse out of bed one morning, a giant smile on his face. Today would be a perfect day to swag. It was bright and sunny, and the birds were chirping as if it were a gay Disney movie, prompting Mr. Radke to let out a loud "Shut the fuck up!" A bird fell out of the tree in shock, and the sun scuttled behind a cloud in fear.  
  
"Ah, all better." Ronnie said, grinning like Nnoitra McSpoonsie-spada, walking into the bathroom, humming a little song. There was the flump noise of fabric dropping to the floor, before the humming was interrupted by "Hey there lil guy! Hope I didn't tire you out from last night!" Then a long hiss of someone taking the mother of all pisses.   
  
Andy, who had crashed out in Ronnie's bed due to being too lazy to leave after the monster movie marathon they'd had the night before, grimaced in disgust at the thought of what Ronnie had done while they were sharing the same room, the same bed, before it turned into a huge grin. When Ronnie returned from his long assed piss, he spied the now awake bag of bones known as a Six that decided to take up residency in his bed, with only the fluffy top of it's head visible.   
  
Planting his feet wide, Ronnie boomed, "Andy, nigga, Ima be swaggin' like G-dawg today, homie!" He said be way of greeting. With a sigh, Andy replied, "Good morning to you too, Ronnie, but you can't swag. It's just a fact of life. I'm sorry."  
  
"Da fuq!"  
  
"Any guy who curses out little birds and talks to his dick doesn't have swag, and he can't get any. And I'm fucking disturbed you jerked off while I was in the same room."  
  
"Da fuq that gotta do wit nuthin? And why da fuq ya care? That shit be fuckin' normal nigga!"  
  
"Hold on a minute, Ronnie, let me go get a 'Swag to English' translator." Andy said, crawling out of the bed and the room.   
  
Ronnie shrugged, getting dressed in an oversized T shirt, low slung baggy shorts that showed his arse and junk that were hiding below tighty whities, and a backwards facing cap.   
  
The same group of black guys from before decided to jump him... Again.   
  
The reason they gave for jumping him this time? Horrible swagger, and an insult to the way they dressed.   
  
"This damn white boy! Be talkin to his damn dick like it gone talk back! And who da fuck cusses at a little bird? It ain't do nobody nothin!" One of the larger guys who had jumped Ronnie said, all the while cuddling the little bird that had fallen out of the tree in shock.   
  
The other guys exchanged uneasy looks. Certainly nobody who was standing there holding a bird and baby talking it could have swag. Right? But yet, here is one of the guys who claims to have extreme amounts of swag, sitting holding a little bird, talking to it and rocking it like a baby after he beat up the guy who offended it. Wow. What's the world of swag coming to?


	5. Chapter 5

Ronnie was fucking high off his ass. Apparently smoking several joints one after the other wasn't a very smart idea. He stank of pot, and his brain was so out of it, that it took a rather long vacation. But there was a problem. Even stoned off his ass like he was, Ronnie was still trying to do his 'swag'. And he wanted to sing it, er, sorry, rap, to prove just how much swagger her had.   
  
The perfect song jumped into his mind, as his pants jumped to around his ankles. He found a crappy camera, and set it up, with the bland, uninteresting, peeling wall as the background. It didn't even have an interesting poster or anything on it. Not even some profanity. So Ronnie decided to change this. Grabbing a sharpie, he wrote in huge bubble letters, the word 'NIGGA' on the wall, and decided to call it the perfect background.  
  
Putting on a cap backwards, and yanking off his shirt, he started to sing the hopelessly earburning song. Several minutes later, he miraculously remembered his youtube password, and proceeded to upload the horrid thing. I have no idea how he managed to get that thing through the system. But then again, most people usually upload utter shit onto youtube and get away with it, and today, Ronnie Radke was no different.   
  
In the 'ghetto' part of town, our SAME group of black guys were on youtube, watching live rapping performances to get some inspiration! Oh and the huge guy who had cuddled the baby bird from earlier was looking up cooking videos. We're not going into that about him right now.   
  
So anywhore, they saw a new video get uploaded into the same category as the rap videos. Obviously, they wanted to see what it was, because they really didn't have any other pressing engagement. They shouldn't have watched it. Upon seeing the unruly thing, they were in shock. It was the video done by none other than Ronnie Radke, who was prancing around, shirtless, a joint in one hand, trying to rap. The only word in this song seemed to be 'Nigga'. Yes, my lovelies, Ronnie Radke was making a really shitty copy of the abomination known to mankind as 'The Nigga Song'. It's an actual brainmelting thing out there on the internet, investigate at your own risk.   
  
"He think he '100% nigga'? One man yelled.   
  
"He ain't even no 1%" Another replied.   
  
"White boy here can't rap, e a fuckin wanna be nigga!"  
  
"Bitch don't learn his motha fuggin lesson!"  
  
"We gots ta teach him homies!"  
  
"Again!"  
  
The next day, Ronnie woke up smelling like weed, with the munchies, to a loud knocking. Groggily crawling out of bed, he opened the door to find the usual group of thugs standing out there, cracking their knuckles ominously.   
  
"Da fuck it gone take to make yo stupid white ass see you ain't black?" The leader growled.   
  
"AAAAAAAAH!" Ronnie yelled, slamming and locking the door. He ran out the back door, and into the backseat of a police squad car.   
  
"Ronnie Radke, you're under arrest for drugs, posting a stupid video on youtube, and pretending to be black, and being an insult to the subculture." One cop said. He sounded kinda like...  
  
"Coma?"  
  
"HI!" Chuppy yelled, turning around. He was wearing a Halloween police costume, as was Jake, next to him. Jake's car was covered in images printed off the internet, not even cut out of the papers, and affixed with duct tape.   
  
"Where the fuck do you guys get Halloween costumes in July?"


	6. Chapter 6

"Ashley!" Ronnie yelled, sprinting up to the Outlaw. "Hey, Ronnie." Ashley said, glancing at the other man, barely repressing his distaste. It wasn't that he had anything against Ronnie as a person, he just wished the singer would please, for the love of Aizen, pull up his pants. He didn't care if the other singer wore loose pants, of course he understood that not everyone would wear the fuckin' spray on pants that he did, but please, for the sake of everything holy, he did not want to see another guys junk!  
  
Well maybe in a threesome or an orgy he might. But any threesome that he entered, he would most likely be there with two hot women, and in an orgy, it'd probably be all women, save for himself. But either way, even if he were in any sexual encounter in which another male was involved, he would insist there be at least one woman in between the two of them. And while he would tolerate the seeing of the other guy's junk, he wouldn't purposely go out looking for it. Which was precisely why he wanted Ronnie to please pull it up.   
  
But the singer was insistent on his swag. "Can you please pull up your pants? I don't need to see that." Ashley said. If Ronnie didn't comply, he'd probably look quite... gay... and pull the singer's pants up for him! And probably even give him one of his prized belts, just to make sure that they stayed that way. High enough to cover it all up. Because nobody wants to see Ronnie-Junk. Nobody.   
  
"What? And look like fuckin' Steve Erkel?" Ronnie retorted. He'd always hated that nerdy kid to begin with. That, and having pants worn 'normally' was not only uncomfortable for his 'package', the idiot was worried he'd get a wedgie if they weren't hanging around his ankles!  
  
"Do I look like Steve Erkel to you?" Ashley asked, glaring angrily. This was about to push him over the edge, Aizen forbid it. Ashley would probably end up in the local jail, with no women, no tits, no ass, no pussy, not even any porn, but a whole lot of buttrape, and Ronnie would go to the local morgue if this singer didn't stop with his stupid fucking swag in a minute.   
  
"No. You aren't a nerd. But you're not a brother either."  
  
Ignoring everything after 'No', Ashley said, "My pants aren't around my kneecaps either. What does that tell you?"   
  
He expected the singer to say something to the effect that it made him realize that he didn't have to kill his balls, and get a wedgie and look like a nerd just to not have his pants almost tripping him, around his ankles. Instead, Ronnie opened up his mouth, and said, "Means that there's more feminine to you than just your name!"  
  
It took a minute for that to sink in, before Ashley yelled, "I'm completely male! Ask any of the girls I fucked! There's hundreds!"  
  
"Oh yeah? Well gimme a name!"  
  
"Do ya think I'm gonna actually bother remembering the names of all those one night stands?" Ashley spat at the singer in annoyance.  
  
"Is it because you don't care to remember their names because you fuck them, and leave first thing after, or because there aren't any?"  
  
"Half the time, I don't even get their names! They just come up to me and demand to get screwed, so who am I to say no?"  
  
"That's proof! You're probably still a virgin!"  
  
That night, Andy had to come bail the bassist out of jail, where he was nursing a sore fist. Ronnie's face was left an covered in an interesting pattern of black and purple and blue.


	7. Chapter 7

"Nigga Nigga Nigga!" Ronnie yelled as he shuffled down the street, his poor trousers dragging along the ground. Soon enough, they'd be handing the singer a letter of resignation if he didn't pick them up. They missed being firmly wrapped around his bum and package like they used to be before all this swag BS started.   
  
Then, out from an alleyway, stepped a tall black man. His hair was in dreadlocks, and he wore opaque visors that wrapped around his face, obscuring his eyes. A bright orange scarf encircled his neck, and behind him trailed a blond boy, with his mouth hanging open, and a vacant look in his eyes. It was none other than Kaname Tosen.   
  
"My Nigga!" Tosen yelled, holding his arms out to Ronnie. The vocalist was confused for half a minute, before he yelled "Nigga!" and gave Tosen a giant hug. "Will you help me in the promotion of Justice?" Tosen bellowed.   
  
"Only if you teach me swag!" Ronnie yelled back.   
  
"Swag for Justice trade?" Tosen yelled.   
  
"Fuck yeah, ma Nigga!" Ronnie squealed.   
  
Tosen grinned. He'd found someone to help him promote Justice. Hiding in a trashcan in the alley, Grimmjow and Nnoitra grinned as well, but for a different reason. They wanted to see what would happen, and how they could fuck it up.   
  
"Yanno, he'd be kinda cute if he didn't try to swag so much." Nnoitra said sadly.   
  
The next morning, Andy was woken up by a loud knocking on his door. He stumbled out of bed, his hair a bird's nest. Upon opening the door, the first thing out of his mouth was "The fuck?"  
  
He couldn't believe his eyes, as pretty as they were. He closed the door. Then he rubbed his eyes before opening it again. It was still out there. He shut the door, and made a mental note to go see a shrink. All the stress of working on the new album must be getting to him and making him hallucinate.   
  
Outside, stood a rather different Ronnie than had been seen the day before. His trousers still resided somewhere around his ankles, much to their chagrin. But he'd sprayed his skin a dark brown, and his hair was (professionally) put into dreadlocks. Behind him stood a boy who probably was mentally wanting, seeing as the fact that he was drooling a bit, and his eyes weren't focused on anything in particular. But the thing that had scared poor little Andy so badly was the fact that Ronnie's shirt had "JUSTICE!" scrawled on it in neon orange paint.   
  
"The Justice! It burns!" Andy's screech came from inside the house.   
  
"Poor thing. Maybe I should go make him feel better." Nnoitra said, giving a pervy eyebrow wiggle that Ashley Purdy would've been fucking proud of.   
  
Grimmjow rolled his eyes at his lanky companion's (wo)manizer ways. "That's not a good idea." He said warningly. But Nnoitra ignored him, jumping into the house through an open window. There was the sound of a crash, and then could be heard Andy yelling "Holy Fuck! A giant spoon!"  
  
"I'm not a spoon!"  
  
"Get back in the silverware drawer!"  
  
"I'm not a motherfucking spoon, Aizen dammit!"  
  
Then, the sound of something spraying, before Nnoitra shrieked, "Not the motherfucking bug spray! Help! Grimmjow! I'm melting!"  
  
Andy, after thoroughly spraying the invade with bug spray, stepped over the comatose man, picking up the phone and calling Jinxx.   
  
"Hey Jinxx? I need a ride over to the local looney bin. Oh, cause I'm hallucinating. I saw Ronnie turned black, and I found a giant spoon in my bathroom that cursed at me. You'll be here in 10 minutes? Thanks bro."  
  
Outside, Grimmjow pissed himself laughing, but he couldn't help but feel sorry for the skinny singer. He'd gotten the worst wake up call of life.


	8. Chapter 8

Ronnie Radke woke up to find something rather strange. His pants, usually tossed somewhere around his knees, or worse yet, ankles, to drag along the ground, were nowhere to be found. He searched high and low, but was unable to find the pesky garments. This was most unusual, considering the amount of emphasis that the swag culture placed on sagging. You couldn't sag unless you had pants. Any idiot could tell that, even Ronnie.  
  
What he did find, however, was a note, addressed to him. He gulped. Whatever it was, it probably wasn't something he wanted to find at all, much less first thing in the morning when he woke up, and especially not when he couldn't find his precious pants.  
  
Ronnie  
  
As your pants, I am sorry to have to leave you, but I was forced to do this, by none other than you. As your pants, I enjoyed being wrapped around your bum and your junk. I could forgive all the nights that I ended up crumpled up on the floor after your one night stands. I could forgive the times that I've been pulled off during a concert by your fan girls. Fuck, I can even forgive the amount of times I was left along for months on end to languish while your stupid ass was stuck in a jail because you didn't care for me enough to keep out.  
  
But the truth of the matter is, I just can't stand the things you've been putting me through recently. Dragged along the ground? Smelling like weed? Getting ripped to shreds by gangsters when they kick your ass? That's just too much for me.  
  
Hell, I can't even remember the last time that I was actually happy, and was actually on your ass, not your knees.   
  
So to sum all of this up, I'll leave you with some parting words. I won't come back until you learn to treasure me like you used to do. I won't come back unless you actually learn that I belong on your delicious hips and ass and package, not your knees. Your knees aren't half as comfortable, or good looking as your ass.   
  
Sincerely,   
  
Your pants.  
  
After reading this, Ronnie was understandably flipping out. He called Andy. Before the other singer managed to even say hello, Radke was saying,   
  
"Andy man, I need your help, my pants bro, my pants, they left me, and I can't walk around in my underwear, it ain't swag bro."  
  
"Ronnie, I know what you're asking for, and the answer is no. You can't have a pair of my pants until yours comes back. You'd just keep sagging them like you did your pair, and then they'd leave. I don't need to go finding my pants after they've ran away screaming that they've been abused."  
  
"I'll wear them like Steve fuckin' Erkel if ya want! Please nigga, I'm fuckin' desperate!"  
  
"Ronnie, as desperate as you are, I doubt you're desperate enough to fit into a pair of women's pants."  
  
"I've worn womens pants before! I've worn them fucking loads a times! It's nothin! I fuckin' mean it, bro! I've worn ladies pants loads a times!"  
  
"A size 4?"  
  
A/N: I'm taking a guess at the size that Andy wears, but he doesn't look like he could be anything much larger than a 5 or 6 in womens...


	9. Chapter 9

These were actually words that the teacher gave us when we had a sub, and told us to make sentences out of them. Considering that she probably won't be grading them, I decided to take some liberty with it, as did Ronnie with his pants.  
  
Acrimonious.  
  
Ronnie Radke thought the judge was being acrimonious by saying pull up your pants or pay. $500. He quickly went broke.  
  
Ameliorate  
  
Ashley found that a roll of duck tape could ameliorate the sight of Radke's sagging pants, so he bought a lifetime suppy. He ran out in a week's time.  
  
Amenable.  
  
Andy found that Radke's saggy trousers were easily amenable with duck tape. Too bad it was so expensive.  
  
Buoyant  
  
To the gangster's chagrin, Radke was surprisingly buoyant when dropped in a lake. Just because his swag sucked that badly that not even the junk on the bottom of the lake wanted him within 50 feet.  
  
Cajole  
  
No matter how he tried, Ashley was never able to cajole Ronnie into wearing his pants properly. So he resorted to threats.  
  
Calamity  
  
One day, Ronnie's pants fell off, taking his underwear with them. It was such a calamity, CC had a heart attack.  
  
Amorphous  
  
When Ronnie confused his body wash with hydrochloric acid, he became an amorphous blob. He took a trip down the drain afterwards, and tortured the sewer rats with his saggy pants.  
  
Debase.  
  
Ashley was willing to go as far as to debase himself and pull up Ronnie's pants to save everyone the sight. Too bad Ronnie starts screaming rape whenever he tries.  
  
Efface  
  
Since Tosen was blind, he managed to efface the freshly written papers that sentenced Ronnie to jail time. Since no one could read it, Ronnie was released scott free from his cell.  
  
Elucidate  
  
No matter how he tried, Ashley was unable to elucidate the facts to Ronnie that if he didn't pull up his pants, it's be WW3. He was getting the nukes as we speak.  
  
Ephemeral  
  
Ashley was relieved when Ronnie pulled up his pants. Sadly, it was only ephemeral.  
  
Ferocity  
  
Ashley beat up Radke with such ferocity, Chuck Norris was almost impressed. Radke was just a tiny stain on the ground afterwards.  
  
Flourish  
  
Radke was glad his swag was beginning to flourish. He was now wearing his hair in dreadlocks.  
  
Haughty  
  
The haughty woman called the police when she saw the fail shaped singer. The police pissed themselves laughing.  
  
Impervious  
  
The local music studio was thankfully impervious to Radke. It they weren't they'd have been a laughing stock.  
  
Inane  
  
Ashley was beginning to find Ronnie's swag inane. It was bad enough to warrant an ass kicking.  
  
Indolence  
  
Outside of swag, Ronnie's life was characterized by indolence. He died at 45, a 700 pound fail shaped, swag scented couch potato.  
  
Infallible  
  
Ronnie thought that his swag was infallible, until he tripped over his pants, into traffic. Ashley pissed himself laughing.  
  
Inscrutable  
  
The reason for Ronnie's swag was inscrutable. Ashley still thought that it was fucking stupid.  
  
Languid  
  
After being chased 10 miles by an agry mob and tripping over his own pants many times, Ronnie was languid. Ashley led the mob, holding a pitchfork and screaming, “No more swag!”


	10. Chapter 10

"Lookit dis stupid ass whitey." One of the usual thugs spat.  
  
"He say he went to jail." Another said.  
  
"Nigga please, thats BS! He would be reppin' some o' dat prison ink if he did!" A third thug interjected.  
  
"We best be tellin' him dat then!"  
  
So off the band of thugs strolled, in search of the fail shaped singer.  
  
They found him an hour later, in a music store, checking out the latest rap music.  
  
The leader of the thugs stepped forward and said, "Oi! White boy!"  
  
"Da fuck ya want?"  
  
"You ain't been in no jail."  
  
"Yeah I did."  
  
"Then why the fuck ain't ya got no prison ink?"  
  
"They had me in the hole bro-"  
  
"I ain't yo bro!"  
  
"-and they ain't even let me keep my undies nigga!"  
  
The thug made a face of disgust. He found the singer just plain repulsive, and the mental image that brought to thr front of his mind nearly turned his stomach inside out.  
  
"Wigga, tha's just fuckin' nasty as fuck!" The thug said, before beating a quick retreat. He had to go wash his brain out with bleach and cyanide and more bleach.  
  
But that got Ronnie to thinking. If he wanted to have his 'swag' properly, he would not only need the walk, the talk, and the attitude, all of which he already had, but he'd be needing the actual signs on his body. He'd already been ot jail, so logic dictated that he should have the ink to prove it. But he hadn't gotten any while he was there. So looks like he would have to visit there again.  
  
So he lit up a joint in front of a cop. He was given a fairly light sentence by the judge, 2 months in jail. It would've been harsher considering the record he had, but the judge had been too busy laughing at his sheer idiocy.  
  
But he was happy, because now, that meant that he could egt his prison ink, and hopefully, respect from the thugs.  
  
As soon as they let him have visitors, Andy came to see him. Andy was ready to rip him a new one. What the hell was wrong with him? And how stupid was he to be smoking weed in front of the police?  
  
Before the skinny little wisp could get out a single sound, however, Ronnie opened up his large potty mouth and began to blather.  
  
"Andy, ya gotta save me bro! Some nigga named Joe is trying to make me his bitch! Lookit my ass an what tha fuck he did to it! My gorgeous ass!" he whined, before standing up and turning his back to the grate separating the two singers. Before Andy could even get the faintest inkling of what was happening, he dropped his drawers, effectively mooning the younger singer.  
  
A rather fresh looking, but messy tattoo on one tanned arse cheek read "Joez biTch". The J faced backwards.  
  
"Well you said you wanted to get jail ink." Andy said, trying not to giggle.  
  
"But it's not what I wanted!"  
  
a guard looked on in shock.  
  
"Then would you rather have a Nazi symbol on your ass?"  
  
"Tha fuck be yo problem?"  
  
Andy sighed, before saying, "Pull up your pants, or I'll scream statutory."  
  
The shocked guard recovered enough to drag Radke back to his cell.  
  
On the way out, the warden asked, "Why did your lover feel the need to show himself to you like that?"  
  
Andy nearly gagged.  
  
"First, sir, I'd never date an idiot like that, and secondly, we're just friends. He's like the brother I never had, and never wanted to have, either. "  
  
"But why did he show you his ass?"  
  
Andy smirked faintly. He wanted to say, 'Because everyone shows me their ass and hopes to get a piece of me'. Instead, he said, "Someone made him their bitch and decided to mark their territory."  
  
The warden nearly died of laughter.  
  
6 months later, Ronnie was bitching about how much of a pain in the ass, literally and figuratively that tattoo removal was. It wasn't what he wanted, and it earned him ridicule from the thugs.  
  
Andy couldn't help but say, "You were the one who wanted prison ink."  
  
Ronnie flipped him off.


	11. Chapter 11

After the recent prison ink issue, er, sorry Ronnie, _situation_ , and having a(n extremely) painful and expensive, not to mention embarrassing tattoo removal, Ronnie was furious. But it wasn't for the reason you think it was. It was because he didn't get the ink to prove how 'tough' and gangster' he was. So the fake homie sulked around the city's bad neighborhood for a while, earning the distaste of the residents. He wanted to look like he could pwn your ass in a half a heartbeat, but his current ink just wouldn't do the trick apparently.   
  
This brings us to the current day, a little under a month after Ronnie was released from his (latest) jail stint. He was browsing images on Google, and he came up with something. So he decided to give Andy a ring... at 3 A.M.   
  
"what?" The grumpy, groggy singer snapped when he finally answered.   
  
"I have an idea!" Ronnie practically sang.   
  
"Oh God."  
  
In Hueco Mundo, Aizen sneezed.   
  
Later that day, at a more godly hour...  
  
"Ronnie, are you sure you want to go through with this?"  
  
"Fuck yeah, bitch!"  
  
"But you don't even speak Chinese!"  
  
"That's why I'm getting help from online!"  
  
Andy sighed. The facepalm he made could be heard around the world.  
  
Ronnie, lacking the proper braincells to have the common sense to get a tattoo in a language that he could read, opened a message board and began to type out a post.   
  
"Yo mah yellow brotha's..." He mumbled as he typed. "I'ma be getting' a tattoo to be showin' how thug I is an I wanna has it in like Chinese or Taiwanese or some shit so I look..."  
  
Here, he paused, his weed-abused and intelligence starved brain at a loss for words.   
  
"Stupid?" Andy proffered boredly, sipping at his coffee.   
  
"Exactly! Stupid as fuck yo! I wan it be sayin' tha' I kick yo ass!" Ronnie said, typing the last words, before hitting post.   
  
Biersack's jaw dropped. The message he posted was full of awful spelling and grammar, not to mention a general lack of capitalization and punctuation, and it would appear that the singer didn't know the difference between numbers and letters.   
  
"0 mi yella bruddaz ima b geetng 4 tatu 2b sh0wnn h0w Thugg 1 is + I w4nn4 geet eet n lYke chin-eze r tye-1-eeze r sum zhit su 1 luuk stoopid s fuqq YO eye wann t 2b s4yn dat ii keeck ur 4$$ n1gg4", the unruly (like it's creator) message read.   
  
However, Ronnie looked quite pleased with himself for creating this mess of a message. Thankfully, Ashley wasn't there to see it, or he'd be forced to bail the bassist out of jail... again. Really, Purdy was becoming more of a badass than Radke!  
  
"You do know you just posted on a board of kids looking for help with their Japanese homework, right?"  
  
"So?"  
  
"You said Chinese."  
  
"Chinese, Japanese, Taiwanese, it's all the same shit!"  
  
 **(Ronnie, you racist son of a bitch!)**  
  
Meanwhile, somewhere in Japan, two nerds were on the boards. One turned to the other and said (in Japanese), "Do you see this idiot?"  
  
"Who does he think he is?"  
  
"Let's teach this guy a lesson!"  
  
The next morning, Ronnie woke up to see he had several replies.   
  
One was from the nerds, saying, "Here is your tattoo.", with an attached image of several kanji.   
  
Several other messages called him stupid, and to get off the board.   
  
The final one said, "Oh, you think you is some shit? I challenge you Society Creative Anarchism in LA". This one was signed, "El Spoon".   
  
"Got it!" Ronnie yelled in triumph, opening the file. "Now how the fuck do I print it?"  
  
The next day, he walked into the local tattoo parlor, a print out of the kanji from the site (courtesy of Andy helping him after relentless pestering) in hand.   
  
Andy sighed, warning, "You don't know what it says. How do you know it's not saying something horrible?"  
  
"Pfft, nigga, the hell would a nerd wanna be fuckin' up ma swag?"  
  
Andy just sighed. There was no reasoning with the aspiring gangsta.   
  
Sitting down with the artist, Ronnie handed him the page.   
  
"You sure you want this?" The artist asked when he saw the paper, raising his eyebrows.   
  
"Yup!"  
  
"Yanno, a lot of people get these kinds of things, and later regret it because they find out it didn't mean what they thought it did."  
  
"Just do the damn thing!"  
  
 **6 months later...**  
  
On an internet forum, a raging argument was going on, centered around Ronnie's new ink.   
  
"The guy's a fucking moron to get that tattooed on his arm."  
  
"Was he high?"  
  
"God, when I was in highschool, I used to look up to him, now I'm ashamed to say I ever liked his music!"  
  
In Japan, the one known as "El Spoon" pissed himself laughing.   
  
When on tour in Japan, Ronnie and Andy were walking down the street, when a little old lady charged towards them, yelling at the top of her lungs.   
  
"Huh?" Andy asked in confusion.   
  
She switched to broken English, saying, "You nice girl, why get man with that on arm?" she asked, pointing at Radke's prized new ink.   
  
"What's it mean?" the younger singer asked, oblivious, not having taken Japanese before.   
  
The lady looked at him, her eyes bugging out, before casting a furtive glance around. Certain that there was nobody overhearing them that could be ill to their health, she said, lowering her voice, "He say on arm.. he like penis in the ass." Before she walked away.   
  
Andy was left dumbfounded.   
  
"You're fucking kidding me."  
  
"The guy did warn you so many people get those without knowing the meaning and end up regretting it."  
  
"Shut the fuck up!"  
  
"Meanwhile, Ashley and CC, who were watching from a nearby alley, burst out into loud, raucous laughter.


	12. Chapter 12

Antiquated  
  
Ronnie believed that the habit of wearing one's pants in such a way that undergarments were not seen was antiquated. Purdy begged to differ.   
  
Arable  
  
Ashley realized that as a Purdy, he should be able to tell what arable land looked like. And he could, much better than Radke, but the land wasn't exactly land, and the plow wasn't really a plow...  
  
Ascendancy  
  
Ronnie wished to believe that his ascendancy in the world of swag would quickly make him a swag icon. In reality, he was little better than someone's ghetto-fabulous 10 year old kid brother.  
  
Atrophy.   
  
Because of the amount of week that he smoked, Radke's brain had begun to atrophy. Within 10 years, he was effectively a vegetable, thinking only of money, pussy, weed, and swag.   
  
Clandestine.   
  
Ashley had hatched a clandestine plan to get Radke to pull up his pants, offering a professional stripper if he did. Unfortunately, the Outlaw forgot that his target was no longer a part of Escape the Fate, so Craig Mabbit got a lap dance for free.  
  
Conciliate  
  
Andy was doing his best to conciliate Ashley and his swag hate. It backfired in his face, and when he intervened to keep the two men from killing each other, Ashley broke his nose and Ronnie kicked his balls so hard he sang soprano.   
  
Cursory.   
  
After having a heart attack because of seeing Ronnie-Junk, CC entered the bus carefully, throwing a cursory glance at the swag-infested singer, who seemed decent enough. Then he saw the naked hooker, and had another heart attack.   
  
Derision  
  
The derision that Ashley held for Ronnie's swag was understandable. However, renting billboards to express his emotions was taking it a bit too far.  
  
Enmity  
  
The enmity that Ashley had for swag was damn near ridiculous. Andy was getting sick and tired of having to chase his bandmate down to prevent him from killing people every time he chased kids with drooping trousers, a nail gun in hand.   
  
Extricate  
  
Ashley kicked Ronnie's ass to the point he was a tiny swag-infested ball of fail in the corner. It took him 3 hours to manage to extract his hand far enough to flip off the long gone Outlaw.  
  
Forbearance  
  
Whatever little forbearance Ashley had for Ronnie's swag was quickly dissipating when he saw the other man with dreadlocks. He was at the point of opening up a Chuck Norris worthy can of whoop ass.   
  
Frivolous  
  
Ronnie believed that using belts was a frivolous practice, since the only example he had of people wearing belts were the Brides. This meant that everyone saw his junk, and gave poor lil' Chuppy yet another heart attack.   
  
Garrulous  
  
When it came down to matters of swag, the fail shaped singer was quite garrulous. Ashley purchased ear plugs to counteract this, but CC didn't, and his brain melted and ran out of his ears.  
  
Impetuous  
  
Andy wished his bassist would stop making such impetuous decisions when it came down to matters involving the wanna be gangster. He already had outstanding arrest warrants in 23 states.  
  
Industrious  
  
Ashley was industrious in getting rid of anything swag related on the tour bus, including Andy's sweats. The poor guy had to sleep in his undergarments for the remainder of the tour.   
  
Infamous  
  
Ronnie was now the infamous face of swag alongside Lil' Wayne. Ashley, seeing this, turned to Andy and said, "Kill me. Now."  
  
Insolence  
  
When the judge asked Ronnie, "Son, why can't you just pull up your pants and put down the joint?", the singer dropped F bombs like they were going out of style. He received a $200 find for insolence.  
  
Levity   
  
The sheer levity of the reporters' stares should have been enough to dissuade Ronnie from giving the interview. But he went ahead and did it anyways, and was promptly turned into a laughing stock.   
  
Oblivion  
  
When Ronnie Rose to fame, his swag made the use of belts fade into oblivion. As a result, Ashley was able to buy them dirt cheap, and the factories went out of busniess.   
  
Paradoxical  
  
To the swag-infested singer, the notion that he could wear his pants properly without getting a wedgie seemed paradoxical. So he didn't do it.   
  
Perjury  
  
After being sworn into court, the judge asked Radke, "Did you smoke weed an hour ago?" When he denied it, he was charged with perjury.   
  
Rancor  
  
When he first heard of swag, Ashley didn't think he'd have such rancor for it. However, Andy had a bad feeling about it.   
  
Sycophant  
  
Andy did his best to be a sycophant around Ashley, to avoid seeming like he was taking sides with the wanna be swag shaped failure. Unfortunately for him, that led him to saying things he'd regret, namely that if he were gay, or female, he'd be making a beeline for the bassist.  
  
Vacillating  
  
While Ashley had firmly cemented himself in swag hatred, Andy was vacillating. Sure, he hated swag, but Ronnie was also pretty convincing...


	13. Watch You Sleep

**Finally, a break from vocab time! Legit, I'm questioning how I made it through the year without my teacher even raising an eyebrow at all the innuedo and jerk moves, or asking even once, "Who are Ronnie and Ashley? Why does Ronnie act ghetto? What's Ashley's issue with him?" I still have quite a bit of those little 3 liners left. Maybe I'll actually type them all up and set them loose on the world. Also, I've gotten some complaints that Ronnie seems out of character in this story. It's because being high changes people, and the majority of times that he's in a chapter, he's stoned.**  
  
At the present moment, Ronnie is extremely stoned. And as all of you know, the majority of his most idiotic ideas seem to come when he's high off of a (usually illegal) substance. This time would be no different.   
  
As he sat on his couch, growing steadily more baked, the TV on in front of him, a string of sappy lovey dovey commercials came on, before a girly romantic comedy returned to grace the screen.   
  
Sitting there, watching chick flicks, the first thought that ran through Ronnie's head was "It's so fuckin' cute when you're dating someone and they stay awake watching you sleep to make sure you're ok."  
  
Several minutes later, another thought followed. This time, it was "God, I wish someone would do this for me."  
  
Then Ronnie had to remind himself that he was a guy, so technically, he had to do the cutesy watching while his girlfriend got to sleep peacefully.   
  
With this thought, he leapt up from the couch and sprinted into the bedroom. Or at least, he tried to. As baked as he was, he barely managed to haul his ass off the couch, and shuffle, zombie-like into his bedroom. As he entered, he took note of the fact that the room looked like a dump site, and the bed was free of other persons in there.   
  
It took his poor brain several minutes to comprehend this, however, and several more to get the point across to the singer.   
  
It was then that he remembered that he was single, and had been for some time. Although he looked at swag as a way to get women, citing all the rappers with women dancing all over them in videos, and pimps, not a single woman had approached him since he had started this swag phenomenon. And to make matters worse, even when he approached them, they ran away from him. Apparently they didn't like swag. But that didn't stop him from trying.  
  
"But I wanna watch someone sleep and be all fuckin' cute like those gushy ass stories!" He lamented to the cockroach on the other side of the room. It scurried away at the sound of his voice. Personally, I don't blame it.  
  
So after several moments of standing there with an idiotic look on his face, yet another stupid idea crossed Ronnie's mind. Why not _get_ someone he could watch sleeping?  
  
So he set out his front door. First, he headed straight to the red light district, and approached a prostitute.  
  
"So, good-lookin' how much are ya for the night?" He propositioned her.  
  
"Depends on what ya askin' for." She replied, snapping her gum for emphasis, a scrutinizing look on her face.  
  
"Well, I was watchin' dem real faggy movies on TV, and I wannt watch you sleep and shit."  
  
"The fuck is your issue?" The hooker replied, on hand on her hip.  
  
"Well, it's so fuckin' cute, and everyone seems so happy in those Lifetime movies and all."  
  
"Aw hell nah! You got issues! I-S-S-U-E-S issues! She-MAR!" The streetwalker hollered at the top of her lungs.  
  
Her pimp came barreling out of a rusty old car parked across the street.   
  
"This motha' fucka' givin' you problems?" He asked when he approached the pair, hand going behind his back to where he undoubtedly kept a piece.  
  
"Sayin' he wanna watch me take a shit!"   
  
"Nah, yo, didn't it mean like that, you came out wrong, got it?" Ronnie said, managing to mix up all of his words, effectively making less sense and digging himself into a deeper hole than he was in already.  
  
"How fuckin high is you to be sayin' shit like that?" The pimp asked, an awestruck look on his face.  
  
"Tha moon, brotha!" Ronnie replied, eyes glassy.  
  
The pimp's hand let go of the gun tucked into the waistband of his pants below his purple zebra printed velvet coat, forming a fist instead. "Now I'ma let you off with a warning since you so fuckin' high you stupid as fuck. Get tha fuck out ma sight dis minute, o else!"  
  
And with this, Ronnie was left with a black eye. He shuffled off, dejected.  
  
He wandered into the local hospital, finding himself in the room where parents were able to view their newborn babies. He stood there, just looking at them, because he could watch them sleep and they'd never have a problem with it. After a few minutes of him standing there, a derpy look on his face, a nurse passed by him, and said, "Sir, I'm sorry, but our visiting hours are over. You can return to see your child at 8 A.M. Tomorrow."   
  
He nodded, and mumbled, "I'ma leave in a minute."  
  
She gave him a pointed look, and he turned to leave. However, on the way in was a furious man, who punched Ronnie in his other eye. "You lying sack of shit!"  
  
"What?" The singer slurred, confused.  
  
"My wife's child is yours because ya kept sniffin' round after I told ya to leave!" The man yelled.  
  
"Didn't do shit!" Ronnie replied. He never remembered seeing this man in his life before.   
  
"Bullshit!" The man yelled, aiming another fist at Ronnie, who managed to dodge only on account of his balance being so far gone. From his place on the floor, Ronnie crawled towards the door, aided by a swift kick in the ass from the man.   
  
Then, he ran from the hospital like the devil himself was hot on his heels.  
  
Somehow, from there, he ended up at Andy's house. There, he committed the crime of breaking the window, and entering through it, leaving shards of glass all over Andy's couch, coffee table, and carpet. Then, he managed to knock over a vase of flowers and several nick-knacks from a side table, sending them crashing to the floor below.   
  
All this ruckus caused Andy to wake up and come down the stairs, flipping on the lights, yelling like a kung fu master, a large baseball bat in his hand.   
  
"What the fuck are you doing here?" He asked, still half asleep.   
  
"I wanna watch you sleep!" Ronnie offered helpfully.   
  
"No, just... no. Get the fuck out." Andy said, pointing towards the front door with the bat.  
  
"But-"  
  
"And I'm expecting you to come back in the morning and clean this shit up."  
  
"I-"  
  
"Lock the door behind you."  
  
There was an awkward moment of Andy standing there, glaring at Ronnie, one hand on his hip, the other holding the baseball bat, until Ronnie shuffled his way back into the living room, and jumped back through the window he had broken.   
  
However, Ronnie was still at a loss as to how to satisfy his desire to watch someone sleep. The one coherent brain cell that he miraculously still had yelled at him, "NO! Stop it! Go home!"   
  
He ignored that little brain cell, however. His ignoring that brain cell was probably what caused police dispatcher Mary Watson to later have to put a call on mute for a moment while she nearly fell out of her seat laughing.  
  
At about midnight, Mary was at her desk, taking 911 calls as she usually did, when a call came in. Answering the typical "911, what is your emergency?"  
  
"Um, hi, like a guy broke in, and he was in my room and watching me sleep and then- Mom, he's already knocked out!" A young-ish sounding voice replied on the other end.   
  
There was the noise of a commotion, and an older woman's voice replying, "I don't care!"  
  
"Do you need a police unit to be sent out?"   
  
"Please, and probably an ambulance for this guy, he's just... out, yanno?"  
  
Several minutes later, an ambulance and a police patrol unit had been sent out, and had arrived at their location. After making certain that the caller needed nothing more, Mary hung up, to await the next incoming call. About 10 minutes after she had hung up, and after dealing with a domestic dispute call, she received another call.   
  
"911, what is your emergency?"  
  
"Some bitch beat the shit out of me!" An irate male's voice came through the speaker. He sounded as though he were under the influence of something.  
  
"Sir, do you need medical assistance?"  
  
"I'm in the back of a fuckin' ambulance right now!"  
  
Taken aback for a moment, she just had to ask, "If you're in the back of an ambulance, why are you calling 911?"  
  
"Cause I wanna press some charges against her! Ain't right to be beatin the shit outta someone and walkin' away free!"  
  
"I can't press charges, sir, I can only send out emergency services."  
  
"Well, can ya tell tha cop that came with the ambulance to arrest her ass for assault?"  
  
"Sir, were you the same person who broke into a woman's house earlier and watched her child sleep?"  
  
"That;s me!"  
  
At this point, Mary had to put the call on mute for a moment as she laughed. He had just admitted to the crime! In her many years of being a 911 operator, she had never had to deal with someone so stupid.  
  
The next morning, Ronnie was in the courtroom of the honorable Judge Johnson.  
  
"So tell me, why did you break in this woman's house?"  
  
"Cause I wanted to watch someone sleep! And I wanna press charges against that woman! She hit me with a bat!"  
  
"This isn't the time to be pressing charges, this is time to defend yourself. And furthermore, she committed an act of self defense."  
  
"But-"  
  
"Now why did you want to watch someone sleep?"  
  
"Well I was watching Lifetime movies."  
  
The judge deadpanned. "You are aware that most Lifetime movies have domestic abuse in them, yes?"  
  
"And?"  
  
The judge sighed, before banging his gavel down. "Defendant to be remanded to the custody of the county jail, where he is to serve a minimum of 30 days of a 90 day sentence for breaking and entering."


	14. Flush In Blackout

It was the middle of the summer, and to cope with the fact that it was hotter than hell, and everyone and their mother was running their A/C full blast, the city of Los Angeles had started instituting rolling blackouts. After all, they argued, if they didn't, the power to the entire city might get knocked out. While the people grumbled about it, there was really nothing that they could do, now could they?  
  
Ronnie Radke was one of these people, and he grumbled a bit more than the rest. After all, if he had no electricity, how the hell could he spread his annoying presence across the internet? And how did he know that he wasn't being discriminated against by the local power company? Or the government for that matter?  
  
Yes, my friends, Ronnie Radke was convinced that he was being discriminated against. Being none too bright, even after he had heard of the rolling blackouts over the radio, and on the news, he still flipped his shit when the power went out. The first thing he did was call up the power company, and proceeded to curse out the poor sap on the other side.  
  
"Ya'll niggas turned out my power! I paid my fuckin' bill!"  
  
"Sir, there's rolling blackouts, and right now, your area is probably affected."  
  
"I don't give a fuck! I paid my fuckin' bill, there ain't no reason to be fuckin' turning out the lights on me!"  
  
"Sir-"  
  
"This is discrimination!"  
  
"If you would-"  
  
And then, the call dropped, as the cell towers overloaded, and the signal was lost. What wasn't lost, however, was the fact that Ronnie was a complete idiot. The person who had gotten cursed out, along with the author, questioned how in the hell Ronnie knew such a large word as discrimination, much less what it meant and how to use it. Later, the people who had heard of this incident, especially if they knew the singer, would question the same damn thing.  
  
Pissed about his lack of service, he threw his phone at the wall.   
  
About an hour later, he had to piss. He did so, but hesitated before flushing. What if it didn't work because of the blackout? What if he managed to have half the sewer system come back up through his porcelain throne?  
  
You and I, reasonable, fairly intelligent creatures, would understand that this was very unlikely, and that once there was water in the tank, it would flush, and that you usually only got a backup if you had a septic tank, or some sort of blockage. However, Radke had never even heard of common sense, and as such, he panicked.  
  
He went back into his living room, and retrieved his phone from the floor. Miraculously, the signal had come back, at least for them time being. Not knowing who else to call, he called 911.  
  
"911, what is your emergency?"  
  
"Yeah, I took a piss, and I ain't got no power, can I flush?"  
  
"Yes. Do you need anything else, sir?"  
  
"Nah, I'm good. " With that, Ronnie hung up.   
  
On the other side, the call operator turned to the guy next to her, and said, "That's the fifth idiot in the past half hour that's called to ask if they can flush in a blackout."


	15. More Vocab Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More little two -liners in which Ashley proves himself epic, Ronnie is an idiot, and Andy needs help.

Confounded: Ashley was confounded by Ronnie's behavior. Here the fail shaped singer was bitching about tripping over his trousers, but at the same time, he refused to pull the damn things up!  
  
Eloquent: Ronnie's new-found slang was so eloquent that even Andy found himself having to clamp his hands over his ears in protest. The screams of "No more swag!" could be heard for miles.   
  
Indeterminate: To Ashley, it seemed that the date that Ronnie would stop his fail swag was indeterminate. So the Outlaw decided to take the matter into his own hands, which currently held a nail gun and duck tape.   
  
Insufferable. It would appear that the faily singer was insufferable. Really, he was still going about this whole swag thing. After the amount of trouble it had brought him, it would appear that the only logical reason he continued to engage in swag was that there was something severely wrong with him.   
  
Lethargy: One day, Ashley went insane, and grabbed a shovel, which he used to beat the annoying singer into a state of lethargy. Even though the police wanted to give him a medal and throw a parade in his honor, they were still forced to take him down to the precinct for booking.   
  
Lucid: Jinxx was starting to think that Ashley was no longer lucid. After all, he spent the night plotting the worldwide extermination of swag with his army of oranges.   
  
Pertinacity: Ashley held such a high level of pertinacity when it came down to swag removal, that he regularly went around pulling up other people's droopy drawers for them. Andy wasn't pleased with all the sexual harassment charges that were being filed against his bassist by the day.   
  
Pervade: According to charts that the Outlaw created, if Ronnie didn't stop his swag soon, the blight would pervade their teenage fanbase. Jake would've taken these charts seriously, if not ofr the fact that they hadn't been plastered with images cut out of Purdy's pornography magazines.  
  
Supposition: If he were to go on the supposition of swag being a plague, Ashley might've been right. However, he had more than just a supposition. He had to put up with the outcome of swag, which was all the proof he needed.   
  
Voracity: After being released from jail for pummeling the living unholy hell out of Radke (yet again), Ashley read porn with such voracity, Andy couldn't help but think that the Outlaw was severely deprived in jail. But the singer was brought back to reality when he reminded himself that the bassist had only spent a few hours in the police precinct.


	16. Another Vocabulary Adventure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is why Andy can't have nice things.

Antithesis: Ronnie was the complete antithesis of propriety. As a result, it was no surprise that the queen of England went into a dead faint upon seeing him strolling around the grounds of Buckingham Palace like he owned the place.

Ascend: According to Ashley, Ronnie's pants had to ascend from around his ankles before the singer could ascend to fame. Of course, this advice was promptly ignored.

Austere: The repercussions the bassist dished out to Radke for his continued swag were rather austere. Even Chuppy was thinking that all the lawsuits that he was filing was a step on the extreme side of life.

Autonomous: The faily swag artist loved to claim that he was nearly entirely autonomous. It would have worked if his grandmother hadn't burst into the room at that exact minute, insisting he start cooking and cleaning for himself.

Banal: Ronnie claimed that these days, swag was entirely banal everywhere in the developed world. Ashley couldn't help but agree, except he had to insist that Radke was still the failiest thing the world had ever had the misfortune of encountering, no matter how common swag was.

Benign: Radke claimed he was as benign as possible to the mental power of human kind. Ashley could be heard in the background muttering, "Yup, as benign as fucking Uranium!"

Capricious: Andy was growing tired of Purdy's capricious behavior. Just yesterday, he was arrested for running around wearing nothing but a spandex morph suit, screeching at the top of his lungs that he was Anti-Swag Man.

Dawdle: The Brides went to the mall, where Ashley proceeded to dawdle behind the group, staying in the hunting goods store. Jake quickly came to the conclusion that it was because he was looking for a net large enough to trap all the swag-sporting persons in the hall outside.

Exacerbate: Walking down the streets a kid with his trousers slung low tripped over them, sprawling flat on the sidewalk. Jinxx had to bodily drag the Outlaw away so he couldn't exacerbate the situation.

Extolling: When Andy found Ronnie extolling Lil' Wayne, he started to question why he was still a friend of the older singer. Then, he questioned if he'd had too much to drink tonight.

Fastidious: Radke thought that Purdy was being rather fastidious about his appearance. Purdy believed he was completely within his rights to ask Radke to buy clothing that wasn't 10 sizes too large, and for the love of all things (un)holy, pull up his pants!

Furtive: Late one night, Andy made a furtive visit to youtube. He wanted to understand this swag phenomenon, but didn't want to risk a shoe print on his skinny white derriere courtesy of the Outlaw.

Gregarious: TO Ashley's chagrin, Radke was a rather gregarious creature. So he began to plot how to surround the singer with people who were more annoying than he was, only to realize he might not be able to find anyone to fit that bill.

Hypocrite: Ashley was always a stickler for dressing appropriately. So when he forgot to do laundry for a while and had to pay a visit to the laundromat in baggy sweats, Radke took advantage of the situation to call him a big, fat, swagging hypocrite.

Innate: Ashley felt as though Radke had an innate ability to aggravate the shit out of a person better than laxatives. Then, he began to wonder how he could bottle up Radke and make a fortune.

Lethargic: Andy didn't understand why he was so lethargic. Then he realized that he was becoming drained of his will to live, not to mention his energy, from hearing the older singer preach about swag.

Melancholy: Ronnie was experiencing quite a period of melancholy feelings, because he had been told by a local rapper that he just couldn't do swag. As much as he hated swag, Purdy suddenly wanted to send the guy a bouquet of miniature liquor bottles.

Opaque: When Ronnie's trousers fell off for the umpteenth time, Chuppy fell to his knees thanking whatever was listening that not only had the singer chosen to wear underwear, but that they were opaque. Because really, the drummer was sick of being traumatized by seeing Ronnie-junk.

Prolific: Ashley couldn't help but feel that Radke was prolific in the creation of failures. Andy couldn't help but agree.

Reprove: Ashley couldn't help but give Radke quite a reprove for his lack of fashion sense. Sad to say, the failure had discovered the magic of earplugs.

Symmetry: Jinxx couldn't help but notice a warped sense of symmetry between Purdy's pants, and Ronnies. The looser the wanna-be gangsta's pants grew, the tighter the bassist's pants became, til Jinxx wondered how it was Purdy didn't sound like Justin Beaver.

Tranquil: For once, Radke wasn't preaching swag, leading Andy to question why the singer was so tranquil. The, the scent of weed hit his nostrils.

Venerate: Ashley questioned why Radke felt the need to venerate rappers. Radke questioned why Purdy didn't.


	17. Vocab Time, Yo!

Woohoo! Yet another offensive installment in the Ronnie Can't Swag saga. This time, vocabulary flavored! Again!

Okay, so they had messed up my classes badly at the beginning of the school year, and only recently got it fixed. what that means is that not only did I have to suffer through some very low level classes when I'd already taken several classes many levels above them, but I was bored out of my mind since my iPod had been suffering from a broken headphone jack, and since it's so damn old, it took forever to find parts for it. As a result, I had to find some way to entertain myself that didn't involve pestering the teacher or being a sarcastical little shit, and Ronnie presented an idea. As a result, he's effectively failed his swaggering way through most of my classes, and has traumatized 4 English teachers. I don't know whether to be happy, proud, or ashamed for unleashing faily!Ronnie on the eyes of the masses.

One day, on a whim, Ronnie decided that he should enter a rap battle. Everything went fine, until he accidentally referred to one of the men there as his 'homie', at which point, he was promptly flung out the doors.

Somehow or the other, Ronnie managed to earn his driver's license. The first thing he did when he recieved it was an attempt to demonstrate Grand Theft Auto, by attempting to run down a random pedestrian. The license was promptly revoked.

After consuming too much liquor at a party, Ronnie proceeded to streak down the street with reckless abandon. The police argued over who was to go collect the inebrated singer, as none of them really wanted the job.

Ronnie spent the night in jail after the streaking incident, in a drunk tank with several others. When Andy came to collect him the next day, he nearly died laughing at seeing the mosaic of offensive drawings and words that had been placed upon Ronnie's face courtesy of his cell-mates, one of who had smuggled in a Sharpie.

After the fail shaped singer refused to pull his pants up, Ashley took it upon himself to sit and stare at the singer until he complied. The staring contest continued to intensify, until finally the nuisance of the two ran off, screaming that he felt his sanity slowly deteriorating.

In the group of bands on tour, there seemed to be major polarization going on. On one hand, you had Andy, Gerard and Mikey Way, Frank Iero, and Matt Good, who all seemed fine with Ronnie's swagger. On the other hand, the rest of them wanted to burn his sagging trousers, or affix them in place with a nail gun.

Ashley believed that Ronnie would never act appropriately of his own accord. As such, he saw fit to help the singer, by procuring several large dogs, and letting them loose to chase the singer, meaning that he'd have to pull his pants up if he wanted to see the next day.

FInally, Andy had grown tired of Ronnie's constant aggravating behavior, and questioned when he would ever stop. Ashley, from his place perched on the couch, with his nose between the pages of a Penthouse magazine, quipped, "My tentative estimate? Next to never."

After being forced to listen to 3 straight hours of rap, Ashley walked into Ronnie's room, carrying a large sledgehammer, and proceeded to smash his radio into smithereens. "You're blasphemous! That was Tupac fer cryin' out loud!" Ronnie wailed in protest.

Ashley proceeded to chase Ronnie around the room, shrieking like a siren, one hand holding a nail gun, the other holding a roll of ducktape, whilst the singer was forced to hop about in an uncoordinated manner, one hand holding up his problematic trousers. Throughout this entire exchange, Andy sat in the corner, smoking and watching the entire scene unfold with a bemused look on his face.


End file.
